Changing Things Up

I was not always an over-consumer. Before I had babies, I'd say that I was definitely more of a saver than a spender, and there was little in the material world that I even wanted to buy. I wanted a wife. I wanted a dog. I wanted a baby. I never much cared for clothes or electronics or other things. But after the kids arrived, something changed. Suddenly I wanted stuff. Baby stuff. First it was the search for the perfect cloth diaper, and then for the perfect stroller and then for the perfect baby carrier. Eventually Luke and Jaz wanted to do more than just lie around and nurse, and I began to search for the perfect toys to fill their playroom shelves. There was always something else to lust after. And I enjoyed scouring the internet for high-quality, beautiful things with which to surround my children. And while at times I did worry that perhaps I had developed a bit of an addiction, it didn't really seem like my consumerism problem was having any terrible consequences. I didn't wrack up credit card debt or spend beyond our means (though I certainly didn't save as much as I could have), and it wasn't as though I was filling our house with junk. I always chose things that I could see lasting beyond our children's childhood, open-ended, handmade toys that would appeal to a wide range of ages and encourage joint cooperative play. Nothing plastic, nothing requiring batteries, nothing that would break easily. Our house didn't resemble an over-stimulating toy store so much as it did a well-equipped preschool classroom.

It wasn't until this time last year, when Luke and Jaz were nearly 5 years old, that I became aware of the monster I'd created by providing my children with so many things. Make that two monsters. Jasper and Lukas had become ungrateful, never-satisfied, always-wanting-more, stuff-obsessed gremlins. Really, they were reminiscent of Dudley, Harry Potter's unfortunate, spoiled cousin. They cried multiple times during our Winter Solstice and Christmas extravaganzas, opening beautiful gifts and complaining that the toys weren't cool enough, or big enough, or that there simply weren't enough presents to begin with. I cried too. I was horrified. And mortified. And I knew that I was to blame. My intent had always been to make my children happy, but by giving them too many things I had instead succeeded in making them miserable.

Rather than wallow in my grief and guilt, I resolved to kick my habit and "fix" my kids. We initiated a "only one gift per holiday" rule in time for their fifth birthday in February, and I have been mostly successful in not giving in to my temptations to buy more. Luke and Jaz have definitely improved from how they were a year ago, though they still have a long way to go. They still think the best day imaginable would involve a trip to the toy store to pick out something new. They still make lists of all of the things that they want. They still act most excited about anything that involves a present. We talk a lot about taking care of our earth and how one of the best ways we can take care of her is to not buy things, and to not buy new things especially. And some days I think they get it--Luke has, at times, been in tears of distress about how other people are still buying so many things; he thinks we need to make a sign and teach people about the damage that consumerism causes--and some days I think they couldn't care less. But I feel so much better just knowing that we're changing things up and working towards a happier, less consumerism-driven future.

One aspect of our Winter Solstice celebration is that we exchange gifts. In the past our gift exchange looked very similar to the traditional "giftmas" celebration that many people partake in on Christmas day. Both Lena and I remembered the magic and excitement of opening presents on Christmas morning as children, and we wanted to do something similar with our kids (minus the Santa and the mild reference to Christianity that we both grew up with in our non-religious homes). Last year, there were probably 6 or 7 gifts (all new) under the tree for each of our children on Solstice morning, and then a few for Lena and me and my mom (who has joined us on Solstice for the past 3 years). It was a room full of presents. And the kids freaked out. And that was when I first realized that I had messed up. Big time. Over the course of the past year, Lena and I have struggled with how to continue to have a magical and exciting Solstice morning in the absence of so many presents. At first we thought that we would just give each child one really special gift. But, due to the twin issues that our five-year-olds can't seem to get past, I worried that things would still inevitably go sour once the gifts were opened and either Luke or Jaz would wish that he had been given his twin brother's "cooler" gift instead. Ultimately, we decided to give the kids 3 collective sharing gifts on Solstice morning. Each gift will have all three kids' names on it, will appeal to all three kids (a challenge!), and will "belong" to all of them equally. To make the task of choosing the gifts even more challenging, and to help "green up" our celebration, we decided that we would only buy used. The kids are prepared for this new reality, and, probably because we've talked about it so much over the past several months, they are totally cool with it. And I am even more excited than ever for them to see what's under the tree on Solstice morning.

Last year, I began the tradition of the "Solstice Mittens" with Luke and Jaz. I remembered how much I enjoyed opening our various advent calendars as a kid, counting down to Christmas, and I wanted to replicate that somehow. We actually had a fabulous advent calendar that my grandmother made when I was little. It was a felt Christmas tree, with 24 little pouches at the bottom, each pinned shut and containing a tiny ornament. My sisters and I would take turns opening a pouch every morning and pinning the miniature ornament onto the felt tree. It was simple and reusable and non-materialistic. If I had had the time or energy (or foresight) to make something like that last year when I first thought of doing something, I would have. Instead, I noticed the string of 24 advent mittens and hats in a catalog and decided that it would be the perfect instrument for our own version of Solstice advent. I removed the last few pouches (making it a strand of 21), and filled each pouch with small treasures for the kids. Little wooden fruits and vegetables (for our play kitchen), chocolate coins, and stickers were some of the things I stuffed the hats and mittens with. It ended up being a nightmare, the first sign of trouble in our gift-centric holiday celebration. By the 10th day, I had taken down the mittens due to all of the whining, complaining and greediness that Luke and Jaz had displayed. But I didn't want to give up on the solstice mittens all together. So this year, I'm trying something different.


I put an index card in each of the hats and mittens, and on the card I write an activity that we are going to do that day. Ideally, I'd like the majority of the activities to be things that we are doing in the interest of other people (making cards, cookies, and gifts, bringing food and clothes to shelters and the survival center, raking leaves and shoveling snow for our neighbors . . . activities that will be enjoyable and make us feel good but that don't only benefit us). But I didn't quite have it together enough to plan it all out in advance this year, so for now I just quickly write something on the next card every evening (or first thing in the morning before the kids come downstairs), and it's usually just something simple that the kids and I will do. Like read a special book, watch a holiday movie, go get our solstice tree, make decorations for the tree, and go out for hot chocolate. My main goal is just to move the emphasis away from material objects and onto fun family activities.


And, so far, it's been a huge success. Luke and Jaz are just as excited as they were last year about opening the mittens (and since they're just learning to read, they have fun trying to figure out what the message says on their own before asking Lena or me to read it), and have been enjoying having an activity to look forward to doing each day during this ever-increasingly darker time of year.

On our hot chocolate date, per order of the Solstice Mittens:

Sometimes change is a really good thing.